In this week's Torah portion (Devarim), Moses recounts to the Israelites the story of the twelve spies. He reminds them how they had insisted that they send spies to scout out the land of Israel before entering it.

Moses then told the Israelites how all the spies had returned from the land of Israel with stories of how good and plentiful it was. Despite the spies' unanimity, the Israelites still obtusely refused to enter the land, defying the command of God. That is why, the Torah says, God punished them by forcing them to wander in the wilderness for forty years. God even punished Moses for the Israelite's refusal. The people's refusal to enter the land is the reason why Moses was forbidden to ever enter it himself (Deuteronomy 1:22-35).

You remember that story, don't you?

No? Perhaps that account seems a bit confused to you. If you are familiar with the way this same story is told in the book of Numbers, you may remember it differently. In the Torah portion Shlach Lecha, which we read just seven weeks ago, it was not the Israelites who insisted on sending the spies. It was God. 

"God said to Moses, 'You will send men who will scout out the land of Canaan that I am giving to the Israelites" (Numbers 13:1). Remember?

Also, in the version of the story in Numbers, there was no unanimity among the spies. All twelve reported that the land was good, but only two of them urged the Israelites to take possession of it. The other ten declared, "We cannot go up against the people there, for they are stronger than we are" (Numbers 13:31). Deuteronomy leaves out that detail.

Also, according to Numbers, the reason the Israelites were punished with forty years of wandering was for the sin of lacking faith. God says that the Israelites failed to believe in God's power to deliver them to the land of Israel, even after they had seen the wonders performed in Egypt and in the wilderness (Numbers 14:21-22). The difference is subtle, but notably different from Deuteronomy, which says that the Israelites were punished for obstinately refusing to enter the land, not for lacking faith.

Finally, in Deuteronomy, Moses said that he was punished by God because of the people's sin of rebelling against God. Numbers is strikingly different. It says that God told Moses that he could not enter the land of Israel because of his own disobedience. At Meribah, Moses failed to follow God's instructions and called the Israelites "rebels" (Numbers 20:9-13).  That is why he could not enter the land.

What is the reason for all of these differences? It could have something to do with the fact that, in Deuteronomy, Moses is the narrator and the story is clouded by his personal recollections. It could be that the authors of Deuteronomy wanted to emphasize the willful disobedience of the Israelites as the reason for their suffering.

Or, it could be that the different versions of the story just represent equally valid but differing perspectives. The two stories of the twelve spies could be a biblical Rashomon that challenges the idea of a single, objective version of the truth. The versions in both Numbers and Deuteronomy are necessary because no one version can capture the entirety of "what really happened." That is the essential theme of Akira Kurosawa's cinematic masterpiece, in which a single story can only be understood after it is presented from many perspectives.

That understanding resonates deeply with the Jewish approach to discovering truth. Judaism does not fear contradictions; it embraces them. The rabbis declared, "Any dispute that is for the sake of heaven will endure" (M. Avot 5:20). Unlike religious traditions that insist on a single authoritative answer to fundamental questions, Judaism thrives on differences of opinion.

I cannot help but think about how this understanding applies to the conflict we see in the land of Israel today. Over the past few weeks, my head has been dizzy with the different assumptions, interpretations and understandings I have read about the war between Israel and Hamas in the Gaza Strip. There are articles all over the internet that take polar opposite views of the conflict. There are many who argue that Israel is morally justified in taking limited and restrained action to stop the rockets aimed at its civilian population and to destroy the tunnels under its territory that are designed to launch terrorist attacks. You can also read articles that say that Israel is an illegal aggressor that is using its superior military might to oppress innocent people and to force them into quiescent humiliation. 

Which version of the story – unfolding right before our eyes in our own time – is the truth? People on either side of the debate are utterly convinced that they are right and that their opponents are lying, self-deluded fools. The temperature of the debate only increases as each side is infuriated by the assertions of the other.

But let's make a different assumption. Let us, just for a moment, take a lesson from the two different versions of the story of the twelve spies. In that story, neither Moses nor the Israelites behaved perfectly. Depending upon which facts and perspectives they choose to emphasize, honest people draw different conclusions. That is not to say that all perspectives and all interpretations are equally valid. There is still a difference between truth and lies. But any quest to discover "the truth" will be aided by a willingness to look at things from different perspectives.

I am a strong supporter of Israel, and I believe that Israel has acted justifiably in defending itself. I believe that the rulers of Gaza have behaved immorally and cowardly by targeting civilians in Israel and by intentionally putting the lives of their own innocent civilians at risk – actually seeking the deaths of their own people to score points in the international media. Yet, I am still capable of listening to the intelligent people who disagree with me to consider the possibility that Israel has not acted as wisely as it could. 

In defending itself, I believe that Israel could make better choices. Israel could put as much energy into pursuing peace as it puts into its security. Israel could act more strongly to harness the hatred and extremism that exists within its own family. Israel could do more to empathize with the suffering of those innocents who are unwillingly under Israel's control. These are thoughts that I probably would not have if my aim were to see things only from a single perspective. 

Moses and the ancient Israelites entered the land of Israel with great difficulty and with many mistakes along the way. Yet, according to the Torah, they entered it in order to become a light to the nations, not only a light for their own perspective. The modern state of Israel today is similar. It doesn't do everything right. It's plight is difficult. Yet, it needs to stand for more than its own narrow self-interest. We grow and become wiser when we admit that there are many versions of the same story.


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But who decides the cases when they are too difficult for Moses? There are three times in Torah when Moses cannot answer a question himself and brings a case to the highest authority, directly to God.

Early in the book of Numbers, Moses was approached by a group of men who were ritually unclean during the time of the Passover festival. They want to know what they should do, given that they were not able partake in the obligatory Passover offering because of their impurity. Moses turns the question over to God. He says, "Stand still so I can hear what Adonai commands for you" (Numbers 9:8). God instructs that the men should make the Passover offering a month later.

Later, while the Israelites were traveling through the desert, a man was found desecrating Shabbat by gathering wood on the day of rest. Not  knowing what the law and punishment were for such a case, the people brought the man to  Moses. Only then did God tell Moses what the proper ruling was in that case; the man was stoned to death (Numbers 15:32-36).

Finally, we read about the five daughters of Zelophechad who brought a case to Moses in which they claimed the right to inherit property because their father died without leaving a male heir. Again, Moses heard what the women had to say, and then, "Moses brought their case close before Adonai" (Numbers 27:5). God ruled in favor of the women and their right to perpetuate their father's name by inheriting their father's portion of land.

But, how does this help us? When we have an ethical dilemma, a dispute, or a problem in our lives, we cannot do what Moses did. We cannot just pick up the phone and talk directly to God to receive the guidance that will tell us what to do. 

Or, maybe, we can. A verse in this week's Torah portion (Devarim) suggests that bringing our questions to God is a path that is available to everyone. 

In the first chapter of the book of Deuteronomy God instructed the Israelites, "You shall give no recognition to rank in rendering judgment; you shall hear both the small and the great alike. You shall not fear anyone, for judgment belongs to God. You shall bring a matter that is too difficult for you close to Me and I shall hear it" (Deuteronomy 1:17).

Here we have God actually instructing the Israelites to do exactly what Moses did when they have questions they cannot answer. God says: "Bring the matter to Me." How are we supposed to do that? 

Obviously, it is not going to be by phone. However, a close reading of the verse suggests a path for hearing God's answers to our deepest questions: "Give no recognition to rank… hear both the small and the great alike… do not fear anyone…"

Bringing difficult questions to God—whether they are legal cases or the questions we keep locked up in our own hearts—is what we do when we let go of all our preconceptions. We bring ourselves close to God when we recognize that there is, in reality, no difference between human beings—the small and the great are all alike. When you let go of the idea that you are less worthy than others, or when you release yourself from the grip of ego and arrogance, you are more likely to find your own answers to questions about what God wants from you.

We also bring our questions to God when we release ourselves from fear. Fear is our inbred response to situations that call for "fight or flight" reaction. Yet, when fear is triggered by situations that are not truly life threatening, it can incapacitate us. Fear and anxiety keep us from seeing the truth of the moment—where we stand and what our choices are. Letting go of fear is a way of "letting God." Releasing ourselves from things we need not fear, we discover God's direction.

When we are able to place ourselves into this mindset—free of despair, arrogance and fear—then we are ready to bring our deepest and most difficult questions to God: "Who am I?" "What is the purpose of my life?" "What am I supposed to do?" When you recognize that all your previously held notions about yourself are fantasies, when you recall that life was given to you as a gift, when you know yourself to be a part of God, you will get your answers.

You will bring yourself close to God, and God will hear you.


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Devarim: How?
Shelach Lecha: Getting Up Close and Personal
Shemot: Midwives, Morality and Meaning